


My End and My Beginning

by loonyBibliophile



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Non-Sexual Intimacy, non-sexual coshowering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-02
Updated: 2014-06-02
Packaged: 2018-02-03 03:23:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1729268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loonyBibliophile/pseuds/loonyBibliophile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It gets easier when Fitz wakes up, but only a little. Simmons knows healing takes time, but she does her best work as a doctor, not a patient.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My End and My Beginning

Jemma Simmons was sitting where she always sat. In the hard plastic chair beside Fitz’s hospital bed, with a stack of medical text books, a laptop, and a notebook, with a pen clutched tightly in her hands. Her nerves are betrayed in the twitches and swoops of her normally tight handwriting, the letters jittering as her nervous hands jitter. Her nails are also bitten to the quick, but each time she brings a hand to her mouth to gnaw at them, she hears her chiding voice in her head. 

_Stop that, Jemma. You’ll hurt yourself._

But unlike back at the academy, back in university, he does not reach over and still her hands with his own or a cup of tea. He doesn’t do anything. Because he’s not awake. She stares down at her notes, blinking away another barrage of tears. In the notebook, there are pages and pages of notes about the best ways to rehabilitate the mind against memory loss, exercises for broken arms, strength and dexterity building techniques, anything that might undo what the coma and the oxygen deprivation has done to Fitz. 

It’s been a week, and Simmons can feel her sanity slipping through her fingers. Like water or sand through a sieve. Every time the doctors come in, she grips the side of the chair harder, hoping and praying to a dozen deities she has never given a second thought to before that they won’t announce they have to pull the plug.

It’s another two days of nervous note taking and clenched fists and cricked necks from sleeping in the hard plastic chair, when suddenly his hand twitches beneath hers. She is almost asleep when it happens, but she notices immediately. it is second nature for her, the awareness of him and how and when he moves. So when his fingers twitch, her head jolts up and she turns to him, trying not to hope too much that his eyelids will flutter open. But they do. Slowly, his eyes open for the first time in too long, and slide terrified around the room before resting on her face. 

 _"Jemma."_ he whispers, his voice rough and tired and almost surprised to be speaking again. A sob wrenches itself from her throat and she nods, pulling herself from the chair and over to drop her arms around him. 

"Jemma" he says again, clearer this time "I’m not supposed to be alive." 

"I had to try, Leo, I had to try and drag you with me, I couldn’t leave you there." her voice is sharp with the sounds of crying, and the nurses and doctors have suddenly taken notice of the noise and drifting into the room, astonished to see the young man’s eyes open again. 

They make her leave the room while they run tests on him, checking his vitals and his range of motion and the blood flow to his brain and his extremities, and Simmons stands in the hallway with the rest of the team, who came at her call once they knew he was awake, shaking and clutching Skye’s hand. She knows he might have some memory loss, he could be paralyzed, might have lost the use of his arm. But he  _said her name. He knows her._ And nothing else matters, not right then. 

The next few days are a whirl wind. Simmons spends as much of it with Fitz as she is allowed, but for much of it she is forced to the side. She spends enough time with him to glean that, despite the odds, he has not suffered any memory loss. His hand still works, though the muscles will need time to heal and strengthen. He is not paralyzed, he can stand and walk on his own. Even his motor skills, the things he treasures so dearly and needs to do his work, are not irreparably damaged. Physical therapy will whip them back into shape. 

Four days after he wakes up, he is discharged to the team, Simmons being declared competent enough to care for him. Coulson drums up a med pod from who knows where and makes sure they have everything they need. Fitz calls his mother in Glasgow, to let her know he woke up, he’s okay, and Simmons will be sure to look after him.

Things are almost normal, until night time on the Bus rolls around, and Simmons finds herself rolling and fussing in her bunk. Quietly, she brought herself to her feet and pulled on a sweater, Fitz’s, and crept across the hall, knocking on his door before just letting herself in.

"Hey." he said quietly from the bed. There was no surprise in his voice. He’d half been expecting her, half been hoping she would appear.

"Hi." her voice is equally quiet, as she lowers herself to the bed and leans her head on his shoulder. "I couldn’t sleep."

"I figured as much."

"I uh. I kept thinking about how easy it would be for either of us to simply never wake up again. And then I couldn’t bear the thought of it happening to either of us a-alone." she shuts her eyes, scrubbing at them with the heels of her palms, and then shakes her head. "I’m sorry. You’ve just woken up from a coma and I’m fussing about what I need. How awful of me. You need your rest, I’ll go." 

Before she could move to stand, Fitz shook his head and grabbed her elbow, tugging gently at her arm to keep her in the bed. 

"I dun want you to go, Jemma. I couldn’t sleep either, so just… just stay, will ye?"

Simmons doesn’t respond other than to nod, and place her face against Fitz’s neck, swallowing a sob.

"i’m sorry, I’m sorry." she mumbles "I shouldn’t be crying on you, I should be helping you, nursing you back to health, you don’t need stress right now I just have to-"

"Shhhh. Jemma, love, somebody has to look after you. I’m sure Skye and Tripplet and Coulson have all been trying and doing their best, but nobody knows you like I do. You can’t fix everything, and you certainly can’t if you’re working yourself like this." she strokes the tips of her fingers with his own, pointing out the torn stumps of her nails. 

"You smell like hospital." she mumbles finally, clutching at him uselessly as her crying finally subsides. 

"Well your hair looks like a rat’s nest, so you’re one to talk." he says, almost playfully, with the slightest of smiles. 

"Yes, I um, I may have discovered an unwieldy side effect of nearly drowning?"

"What do ye mean? Are you alright? You’re not sick are ye?"

"No, no, it’s very silly really. I may be, well, I’m terrified of water. I haven’t taken a shower because every time the water touches my face I start hyperventilating." Simmons stared awkwardly off into space, clearly embarrassed by her admission.

"Aye, no lookin’ away, you and I both know phobias are a perfectly normal reaction to trauma. You may be a genius, Jemma, but you’re only human."

"I still feel silly." she whispered, shaking her head.

"I’m going to ask you a question. But I want to let ye know, before I do, that I do remember what I said to ye, before I tried to sacrifice myself for you. But what I’m about to ask has nothin’ to do with that, I’m askin’ as your best friend who wants to make sure you’re alright."

"Okay."

"Would it help if I came with ye? We’d leave our underthings on, of course, but if ye panicked, I could talk ye down. And I think we could both use some hot water and steam right now."

"I… Alright." Simmons surprises both of them when she agrees, nodding.

Fitz nods, and Simmons leaves his bed carefully, slipping out of his room and into hers, to grab extra underwear and a change of clothes. Fitz did the same, hovering outside her door and waiting. When they made their way through the shower, Skye was sitting in the common area with Trip, half asleep in front of her laptop. Trip was snoring, his head on the back of the sofa. Skye blinked at them as they walked into the bathroom together, but didn’t say anything. 

"Is this weird?" Simmons wonders out loud as she stands at one end of the bathroom, fidgeting with her sleeves. 

"Probably. But we’ve never exactly been normal friends. Speaking of weird, I uh, need a bit of help taking my shirt off." he flushed.

"Oh. I, of course. Anything." she nodded and crossed the room, carefully pulling the long sleeved shirt over his head. He nodded back and turned away from her so she could undress in some semblance of privacy, and pulled off his sweats before turning the water on in the shower. 

"You ready? I’m goin’ to get in first, to ease ya into the situation, alright?"

"Okay." Simmons nodded, fidgeting with her hands, since she’d lost her sweater, tshirt and pajama pants in favor of a sports bra and underwear. 

"Would it be inappropriate to tell you that you look beautiful?" Fitz said quietly as he stared at her from under the shower spray.

"No." she answered softly, stepping forward. She hesitated before walking into the shower, her eyes shutting instinctively. Before her bitten nails could curl into her palms, Fitz grabbed both of her hands, circling his thumbs against her palms. 

"Come along now, thas it. I’m right here." he murmured, pulling at her gently until she was under the spray of the water. Her shoulders seized up in panic, so Fitz let go of her hands and drew her close to him, rubbing her shoulders with his good arm. 

"It only takes a centimeter of water in the lungs to drown." she mumbles against his chest, her shoulders shaking. 

"Shhh, Jemma, not now. You’re not gonna drown, because I’m here, and I’m not gonna let ye. I’ll never let any harm come to ye. Do you hear me?"

She nodded in response, a quiet sob slipping from her throat while Fitz rubbed circles into her lower back. 

"How are you not terrified?" she whispered, looking up at him. 

"Because, Jemma, I’ve got you. As long as I’ve got you everything is gonna be alright. After all, I was ready to die. I was ready to let go of my life in exchange for yours, and I came out of it okay anyway. Because of you. So as long as you and I are in the same place, I can believe I’ll be alright. And I’ll be right here until you can believe that again too."

"Leopold Fitz, if I believed in angels, I would ask you if you are one." Simmons managed, a slight laugh in her throat as she hugged him tightly before pulling apart slightly. Her eyes still looked panicked, but her shoulders had relaxed some, and her hands weren’t clenched. 

"So says the woman who dragged me from the depths of the ocean on a single breath."

They stood in silence for a time, Fitz still rubbing circles into the base of Simmons’ spine, while she came back to herself enough to fuss and frown over his various fading scratches and bruises. 

"Are you alright?" he asked eventually, his voice low and concerned. Simmons nodded. 

"Better, yes. Not good but, better." she swallowed, taking a deep breath. "Thank you. For… for being the kind of friend willing to do this." She waved her hand between them vaguely. Fitz shook his head. 

"Anything for you." 

Later that night, after Simmons was satisfied that all of the betadine was rinsed from Fitz’s skin, and after Fitz had finger combed all the tangles from her hair, they stepped out of the shower, not bothering with modesty as they dried off and changed. They were far too tired from the events of past weeks to care. Simmons was still wound too tightly to go back to her empty bunk, so she followed Fitz into his, walking carefully past Trip and Skye again, both now sound asleep on the sofas. 

They both curled easily into the small space of Fitz’s bed. Simmons arranged herself carefully on the side opposite his still healing arm, not wanting to put undue pressure on the limb. 

"Don’t ever do that again." Simmons whispered fiercely, wrapping one hand around Fitz’s wrist, resting her fingers against his pulse point like she needed the reminder of his heartbeat to be sure he was still alive. 

"What, save your life?"

"No. Leave me. I don’t care how ridiculous and irrational and codependent it makes me, I do not want to live in a world that does not include you. I’ve always been an all or nothing sort of person, you know that. You don’t get to take yourself out of my life like that."

Fitz smiled, relaxing slightly as the familiar stubbornness he was so used to finally tinged Simmons’ voice again. She’d been shaken and soft ever since he opened his eyes, like she was afraid he might break. Or maybe she was afraid she might break. Or maybe those weren’t separate concerns at all, and if one of them started to crumble, the other would simply follow, instinctively. 

"I had to, Jemma." he whispered, stroking her hair. "I had a chance to keep you in the world for one more day, so I did it. You did it for me once, you know. You leapt out of a plane to try and give me a chance. I just sent you the other direction." Fitz’s voice cracked for the first time all night, tears threatening his eyes, which Simmons immediately frowned at and moved to soothe them away with careful fingertips, resting her forehead on his chin. 

"Then I guess we’re even." she murmured, her hands shaking against him ever so slightly. 

"I suppose we are." he answered softly.

"Let’s promise not to do it again then. Both of us. All or nothing from now on." 

"All or nothing." he whispered against the top of her head, kissing it softly. 

They both went quiet again after that, simply laying in the small bed, trying to re-familiarize themselves the the sound and feel of the other. The sound of the bus’ engines, moving slowly through the dark to keep them from being seen, buzzed quietly in the background, and the combination of the familiar sound of the engines and the steady thrum of Fitz’s heart beating beneath her head had nearly lulled Simmons to sleep when Fitz spoke again. 

"Hey Jemma?"

"Yes?" she mumbled, her voice thick and sleepy. 

"I’m glad you pulled me out of the water." 

"It’s fitting, really. You said there was enough breath for one person. And we both lived. It only took one breath to save us both."

"I didn’t think of it that way. It is true though. By all intents and purposes, I should be dead. Or a vegetable."

"The universe wasn’t ready to separate our atoms yet. You can’t go till I do." she said with a yawn, stroking her hand down the side of his face. Fitz felt his throat tighten and gave Simmons as good of a hug as he could without jostling them. 

"I love you, Jemma Simmons. I really do." 

"I know, you silly boy." her voice was even thicker with sleep than before as she moved herself closer to his side. "I love you too."

When Simmons woke up the next morning, Fitz was not in his bed. For a split second, panic flooded her mind, until she saw a bright post-it note beside her on the pillow, with ‘Didn’t want to wake you. Come eat breakfast.’ written in Fitz’s neat writing and accented with a doodle of a robot holding a plate of pancakes. She smiled and slipped the note into the pocket of her sweatshirt, to file away in a drawer somewhere. 

Padding out to the kitchen, she waved at Trip, who was standing nearby and nursing a sore neck from sleeping upright. As if he sensed her approach, Fitz ducked out of the kitchen, a plate of pancakes, complete with a side of bacon and eggs resting on one hand.

"Not as good as yours, of course." he said with a sheepish smile as she approached. "But I think they’ll do."

Simmons grinned, leaning up and pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. 

"I’ll make the tea." 

After a big breakfast, eaten hidden away in his room, and several mugs of tea, the pair felt almost normal. It was a step in the right direction, at any rate. 

Wounds aren’t so hard to deal with when someone is there to help. 


End file.
